


Ours.

by Ratkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: But like. They're ugly chairs tho, Chiavari Chairs, GallaHitched, Ian and Mickey Wedding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ratkovich/pseuds/Ratkovich
Summary: Mickey knows Ian is going to make him talk about his little... tirade.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 9
Kudos: 204





	Ours.

Ian stood frozen to his spot next to the caterer. The two of them having just witnessed Mickey’s... whatever that was. Ian had experienced Mickey’s temper, intimately, on many occasions. He had seen him take beatings from his father, give beat downs to guys who owed his family, hell, he’d even been on the receiving end. His walking cast was current proof. But whatever that just was had left Ian completely dumbfounded. To say that it was out of character was an understatement that Ian couldn't even wrap his head around. 

“Look, I’m so- “  
“Sir, I’m sorry, I- “ 

Both men looked at each other, chuckling nervously, Ian running a hand through his hair. 

“Sir, you go ahead. I’ll call around and see that I can get the gold and white Chiavari’s.” The man put a hand on Ian’s shoulder, giving him an empathetic look. Ian nodded in acknowledgement and continued out of the shop hoping to catch up with his fiancé.  
Mickey hadn’t made it far. Ian found him around the corner from the shop, standing in an alley desperately trying to look busy on his phone. Ian limped silently towards him, not quite sure how to approach the situation. If Mickey had been his usual brand of angry Ian would know how to handle it. He still didn't know what to call the scene back there. 

"Mick..." Ian started gingerly, on guard for anything that could happen next. "We don't have to do this like this; the wedding. We can just go to the courthouse and we can sign the papers there... how we do this isn't important to me. I just want you." He looked at Mickey, trying to gauge his reaction, read his body language- anything that would give him a semblance of a hint of what his fiancé was currently feeling. 

“It’s not...” Mickey tapped his foot, clenching his fists by his sides and stared upwards blinking rapidly. “it’s not about the fucking chairs, Gallagher” Mickey brought his hands to his eyes, pushing the heels of his palms to stop the apparent threatening tears. Already embarrassed about the whole scene, Mickey turned and walked past Ian, lighting a cigarette and allowing himself to feel an instant sense of calm with the first pull. He walked towards the sidewalk, ordering an Uber from his phone. He was over this day. He was over the wedding planning. He was already over the conversation he knew Ian was going to pull out of him when they got home. 

Ian looked up towards the sky throwing a silent prayer out to whatever deity might exist, hoping that he had the strength to deal with the conversation he knew they were going to have to have when they got home. He turned wand walked to where Mickey was standing, climbing into an Uber. 

********************* 

The two men walked into their bedroom at the Gallagher house. Mickey had already thrown his shirt off and was unbuckling his jeans, ready to crawl into bed and just tune out for a while. 

"Mick, we need-" 

"Yeah, I know Gallagher. You need to talk about it." Mickey laid down, turning away from Ian to face the wall and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. Ian sat on the edge of the bed, still perplexed by what had gotten into Mickey. 

"No, we do, Mick. That wasn't... that wasn't you back there. When I said I'd be happy to just go to the courthouse, I meant it. I don't need a big wedding, Mick. This is as much your wedding as it is mine and you need to be comfortable with it too." He looked down, fumbling with his hands on his lap. 

Silence. Mickey hadn't moved, hadn't acknowledged his words. 

"Mick, please... just-" 

"Maybe I fucking want a big wedding, okay?!" Small, quiet words were whispered from beside the wall. Barely put into the universe, but there they were.

Ian snapped his head to look at the back of Mickey's head, eyes wide. "What?" 

Mickey rolled onto his back slowly. He looked small in this moment, shrinking in on himself. His eyes were red and puffy, evidence that he'd been crying this whole time. His hands were twisting and untwisting the sheets as he blinked his eyes, looking anywhere but at Ian. 

"Mick, what's going on?" Ian scooted closer to his fiancé, running his right hand through Mickey's black hair, down his cheek, and eventually catching a fresh tear with his thumb. "Talk to me, babe. I need to know what you're feeling right now." He laid down on the bed so that his elbow was resting on Mickey's stomach, continuing to rub his cheek, pulling every new tear from his eye with his thumb. 

Mickey took a stuttering breath, staring up at the ceiling. 

"I wanted this to be perfect for you. For us. The first time I got marr-" His breath shook, he couldn't get the word out. Shaking his head, he took a moment, just feeling Ian's hand running along his cheek, allowing himself to draw comfort from the action.  
"When that happened... it wasn't right. It wasn't you, it wasn't us. Everything was wrong. Everything felt wrong, except you. Her hand felt wrong, it looked wrong standing there looking at someone that wasn't you. The crowd was wrong because it wasn't your stupid family." He heard Ian chuckle a bit. "And I had it then... the fucking chairs, the stupid arch thing, the tux... but it meant nothing. I felt nothing. I don't want that with you Ian. I want..." He had to stop for a moment. He was already exhausted from getting this much out, unaware of where this all came from suddenly. 

"I want to do it right this time. You deserve better this time. I want for us to stand in front of all the fucking Gallagher’s and whoever fucking else is there and get married, okay? And... if part of that means the right cake, and the right tuxes and the right gold and white God damn chairs, then I want that for us." 

Ian was stunned into silence for a second time that day. He always knew inside that Mickey cared about more things than he let on. He may never voice it, but Ian knew. He didn't know that the wedding meant this much to him though. He knew that getting married did, but not the physical event that was the wedding. He shifted himself so that he was laying down next to Mickey, the full length of his body against his fiancé’s. He wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in tight, feeling him still shaking with emotion. 

"It wasn't you, Ian. It was supposed to be you." 

Ian heard the whispered words, they may as well have been shouted from the top of a mountain with the weight of them hitting Ian hard. 

"I know, Mick, I know. It'll be different this time because it is us. And it doesn't matter how we do it, but we can do it however you want. If you feel you need those things to replace the memories with something better, something that represents us, we can do that." He leaned his head in, placing soft kisses to Mickey's temple. 

"Its not even about that. I don't need to replace them, or whatever. I don't even know. And I don't even like those chairs, they're fucking tacky as shit." He elbowed Ian lightly when he heard him huff a small laugh at that. "It was just... another thing, y'know? Like, another thing we couldn't have." 

Ian let those words sink in for a moment. The universe always seemed to work against them, and for once there was nothing standing in their way. Finally, they could have what they wanted; marriage, each other... gold and white chairs? 

"We'll do it right, Mick. We'll get married in the backyard. We'll have an arch and all of the Gallagher’s will be there. We'll find a good cake. Kev and V will bring the booze. And we'll find those God forsaken gold and white Chiavari’s." He pushed himself up onto his elbow, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Mickey's lips. He felt his fiancé’s body starting to relax underneath him. 

"Okay, Gallagher." 

They laid together in silence, just feeling each other breathing, soaking in each other’s warmth. Hands rubbing small circles on each other’s skin.

"But like... they really are fucking tacky, aren't they?" 

"Yeah. They are. But they're ours."


End file.
